Shaking my head in an attempt to clear my mind, I pick my phone resolutely up off the table. With a deep breath I scroll through my contacts finding the number I had been debating on calling. My finger hovers over the screen briefly before finally pressing the send button. I hold the phone cautiously to my ear.
"The number you're trying to reach has been changed, disconnected or is no longer in..." I end the call before the automated message can finish. I know he tends to go through more phones than your average person, but I'm sure he always keeps the same number. Maybe he changed it so I couldn't... No. I don't think I mean enough to him for him to change his damn phone number.
"Fate must be sending me a message," I whisper to myself bitterly as I finish my tea, which has been cold for some time now. I didn't even want it, to be honest. I just needed somewhere to sit and think... and hide. Why in the hell am I hiding? I've never done that before. I always strolled brazenly through these streets as if I owned them... I practically had.
I lean my elbows on the table and rub my eyes roughly with the heels of my palms as if trying to scrub the thoughts out of my head. Dropping my arms to the table, I hunch forward and stare out the window across the room with a frown on my face. It's dark enough outside that I can't quite make out any details of the people walking by. Even so, I could have sworn that I was watching the subject of my inner turmoil pass by the cafe.
I hate that I don't need to see him clearly to know it's him. That stupid hair paired with the way he towers over most of the people around him and that obnoxious, self-assured swagger of his... he's pretty hard to miss. Especially if you add in the way he hunches over slightly when he's walking with purpose. He's most likely muttering to himself, too.
What was that comment I made to myself about fate?
I sink back into the cushion of the booth, trying to look as small and unimposing as I can in order to avoid drawing his attention. It looks like he's not completely aware of everything going on around him so he most likely won't even look my way. I see him stop abruptly, turning his head to stare into the window. "Crap," I sigh as I can feel his eyes boring a hole into my head.
Shizuo bellows to himself so loudly that the sound practically shakes the glass separating us. Then he does something completely unexpected. Instead of coming in to drag me out, he continues on his way.
"What... what was that?" I ask myself in a daze as he disappears from view. I don't think he has ever, ever flat out ignored me. He definitely saw me. Right? Why do I feel disappointed?
I hate myself right now. I don't think I've ever been so confused and unsure. Or ever felt something so closely resembling vulnerability. Not in public anyway. What is wrong with me? Some part of me had wanted more of a reaction out of him but he just utterly disregarded my presence. Is he really... over me?
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I growl to myself. He wouldn't have to get over me... there was nothing to get over. Unless you include his undying hatred for me. Does that count?
Does he not hate me that much anymore? My eyebrows raise in thought as I sit forward in the booth again, pulling my hood up over my head to hide the odd expression I can feel on my face. With a deep sigh, I let my head fall down to smack on the table in front of me. "Ow..." I mutter as I take a few deep breath keeping my forehead plastered to the edge of wood laminate table. "Why did I come here?"
"I've been wondering the same thing," I hear an angry voice growl from above me. "What are you doing here, Izaya?"
Hearing that voice say my name again sends an odd thrill up my spine. I continue to stare at the floor between my feet, unsure of what I will see if I actually look up. "I don't know," I mumble honestly.
"That can't be true." I hear a chair being dragged over and feel it get pushed up against the end of the table. "You always have a specific and usually twisted reason for everything you do." I hear some of the anger drain out of his voice but it still holds a dangerous edge.
I see his feet tapping in frustration under the table as he's straddling the chair. "Not everything," I sigh. "Not anymore."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Shizuo grumbles. "You're not making any sense, damn it."
"What do you want from me, Shizu-chan?" I ask the floor exasperatedly. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm here and I don't fully understand why. That's the truth."
"You're lying," he declares as he boldly pulls my hood back off my head. I can hear his knuckles crack as he clenches an angry fist on the table. "Why won't you look at me, damn it? That's the least you can do after all this time... acknowledge me."
My eyebrows raise against the table as I shake my head slightly. "Why?"
"I... I don't know," he stammers. "Just... Izaya, look at me."
With a sigh I brace myself for his furious and irritated face as I lift my head off the table. When my eyes meet his something constricts almost painfully inside me. He's not looking at me with his normal unabashed hatred. Is that... concern?
"What is that gross look for, Shizu-chan?" I ask suspiciously. "I don't know what you want from me! I can't... I don't... I don't have any answers for you."
"What's wrong with you, Izaya?" he asks quietly, his brown eyes softer than I had ever seen them. I guess that's not saying much since he's never looked at me with anything kinder than disdain. "This isn't the you I know..."
"And you know me so well, Shizu-chan," I declare mockingly. "I happen to take pride in the fact that no one really knows me."
"I don't believe that at all," he replies simply, face blank. "And yes. I do know you, Izaya. Better than you or I care to admit."
I shake my head as if to reset my reeling mind. With a grunt and a smirk I move to get out of the booth. "I highly doubt that. Now if you don't mind..."
He raises his arm to block my exit. "I do mind, actually. Talk to me, Izaya."